


Astronomy in reverse

by Void (EroEmo)



Series: The Multiverse Theory [2]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Early in Canon, Falling In Love, Hermann loves space and doesn't hide it, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, POV Hermann Gottlieb, Pre-Relationship, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 12:39:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14402322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EroEmo/pseuds/Void
Summary: It was me who was discovered.In which Hermann Gottlieb is slowly being pulled into Newton Geiszler's gravity field, realizing it way too late, and strangely enough - not minding it.





	Astronomy in reverse

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by [try_reset](https://archiveofourown.org/users/technorat/), thank you so much friend!

The uUniverse had its ways and even though people had yet not discovered them, they were certain about their existence. Some even theorized that if we were to know the initial state of it, as well as all the laws that constituted it, we would be able to predict future states, from planets to single particles. Later on everyone realized how silly it was, to think that way, but the primary idea remained — to find out how Universe functioned, why it was acting the way it did.

Hermann found solace in physics and mathematics, their solid foundations revealing distinct kind of beauty, the one he could not find anywhere else. Everything had its place, there was always a cause to match the effect. The Universe wasn’t cruel, wasn’t mean like some people. It was perfect in a way nothing and no one could ever be and that awe-struck Hermann, back when he was still a little boy, re-reading his favorite books about space for the hundredth time.

In high school, and later even in university, very few people shared his admiration for the outer space. He couldn’t really blame them, he thought, and so he refrained from over-enthusiastic talks, trying his best to focus on here and now. Reality laying right in front of him, no matter how gray and dull it sometimes appeared to be.

He didn’t really have hope that there actually might be someone, somebody eager to discuss things with him with an equal zealousness. That is, until one night when he received an email at 3am, notification lightening the screen and illuminating the dark bedroom of his.

Like a newborn star in the dark corner of space.

 

Newton Geiszler was the most hideous person he had ever met and the fact he had appeared so drastically different in their correspondence was straightforwardly _startling_ to Hermann. He didn’t think it was even _possible_ to differ so much but apparently he had to update his opinions about the world and whatnot.

Newton was terribly intelligent, exceptionally witty, and nowhere near as eloquent as Hermann had thought him to be. His speech was chaotic and fast, making it hard to follow his train of thoughts. He looked disheveled and a bit shoddy to Hermann’s taste, leather jacket and forearm tattoo screaming “rebellious teenager,” not “professor with six doctorates.” The fact Newton was lively gesticulating while he spoke, nearly knocking over Hermann’s tea two times, did nothing to improve the overall impression. It did the exact opposite, in fact.

What was worse, though, was that the other man seemed not to notice Hermann’s distaste or, actually, his own ridiculousness. Just as if everything was perfectly fine, their meeting going smoothly and without any troubles. Hermann found that both appalling and infuriating.

He felt like crying from relief when their meeting was over, openly letting Newton know what he had thought of his ghastly behavior. He didn’t like being blatantly honest like that but his nerves were frayed like never before and that said something.

Hermann sincerely hoped he would never have to spend more time with Dr Newton Geiszler ever again.

 

The Universe had its ways and even though people had yet not discovered them, they were certain about their existence. Personally, Hermann caught himself thinking about Universe as being candidly _impish_ because, when he was told who would be his coworker, he felt an urge to look up to the sky and yell “ _really?”_ into the void.

He nodded in acknowledgement instead, Marshall Pentecost excusing himself from the room. In no time did boxes of different size and weight started to appear in the room too tiny for two scientists, Hermann already dreading the upcoming meeting.

Steady steps were followed by less coordinated and quicker ones, two people entering the laboratory.

“Doctor Gottlieb, Doctor Geiszler.” Pentecost nodded at them both, giving them a stern look. “I expect you to cooperate and act in a civilised manner in here. I know both of you are used to much better conditions but this will have to do. Understood?”

“Yes,” Newton answered.

“Of course, sir,” Hermann replied, saluting as well.

“Good,” Marshall said and left them be, the limited space suddenly twice as paltry.

“Nice to see you again, Hermann,” Newton said with a small smile, extending his hand. He didn’t change one bit, maybe with an exception for the forearms, now wholly covered with tattoos.

Hermann took a deep breath, already anticipating hard and difficult times ahead of him. Of them both, probably.

“Hello, Newton,” he took his hand, shaking it quickly and retreating to the back of the lab, where his belongings were still stored.

“It’s gotta be fun,” he heard Newton say to himself.

For once, Hermann fully agreed with him.

* * *

 

Sometimes, when he wasn’t paying attention, Newton would act not like his usual self.

In a frantic attempt to solve a puzzle in front of him, hands covered in chalk and thoughts running through his head with an enormous speed, he tended to forget the world around him. Hermann thought it was a common thing, not only in mathematics-related fields but overall, that when someone found something gripping, they couldn’t care less about everything else. And so he, sometimes, though maybe he should rather say often, had his mind wrapped around an equation or other problem so much that, unfortunately, he would forget about his tea.

He always made himself a mug, an old habit impossible to erase from his routine. Tea meant the beginning of a new day, a fresh start, an equal amount of as positive as negative outcomes of his possible actions. Hermann would love to be able to drink real Earl Gray or his favorite mix of white and green tea but he knew perfectly well it was impossible. The Shatterdome couldn’t simply afford such luxuries and so he sticked to average tea bags with dubious content, focusing more on a tea-resembling flavor they gave.

If it was a day like every other one, he would drink it while trying to come up with solutions and possible theories on how kaiju were crossing the Bridge, arguing with his colleague from time to time, just to remind each other they were still alive and relatively okay.

However, there were also days when Hermann could _feel_ he was about to discover something, finally move forward. Then everything around became a blur, a more or less colorful mass without a shape or form. His tea included — and if there was something he awfully disliked, it would be his tea going completely cold.

One would say that it was his problem and Newton shouldn’t bother, him having enough of his own struggles and puzzles to solve. But, Hermann noticed, that was not the case.

He could not say when it had begun but, over time, he started to spot those little changes, always belatedly, but regardless. One day he noticed the tea he was drinking tasted differently to one he’d made himself in the morning. The other day he was surprised by the mug and wondered if he accidentally took not his own. And then, yet another day, his tea was actually _warm,_ even though he knew it had no right to be; too much time had passed since morning for it to still have its original temperature.

Then Hermann started to wonder and observe.

And after some time he caught them, those little acts of kindness.

People, he himself included, didn’t think highly of Newton when it came to being polite or considerate. He spoke his mind openly, without thinking twice about the effect it could have on other people. His colleague was direct and loud, remarkably intelligent and equally brisk.

As it turned out, he was also kindhearted, to some degree.

When Hermann was too preoccupied, or at least when Newton thought he was, he would casually snatch the mug with the cold tea from the desk on not his side of the lab and then come back, few minutes later, now something steaming in his hands. He would carefully place it in the proper place and then come back to his own work just as if nothing had happened, just as if he didn’t move away from his blue intestines at all.

It was nothing, objectively speaking, and yet, Hermann couldn’t help but smile at the realization. Somebody cared enough to, without being prompted, make sure his tea wouldn’t go cold because, presumably, they were paying attention to those little noises of complaints he would make each time he was tipping his drink to the kitchen sink.

And this someone happened to be _Newton Geiszler,_ of all people.

This little discovery astonished him, took aback. In the end he said nothing, though, letting his colleague continue what he was doing, pretending not to notice when he did. Playing the role of an oblivious one in that strange play of theirs.

Hermann wanted, sometimes, to mention it, let it slip as something unimportant and casual but, somehow, he couldn’t. Whenever he tried to bring this up, that despite his facade he did acknowledge Newton’s kind gestures, something was stopping him. Making him change his mind mid-sentence.

Right now, the whole vast Universe could be described using just two theories and yet he had troubles with the simplest equation, only one variable in it.

Some infinities are bigger than the others, and so it seemed that, to Hermann’s discontent, some people were less predictable than the majority of human race.

* * *

 

Back at home, in Bavaria, he used to both love and hate winter. His mother would scorn him for playing too much in the snow and then nurse him back to health when he caught cold. He enjoyed being careless out there, in between high white piles, snow thick enough to step on in one place and swallowing his small body in the other. He liked that part, disappearing under the cold cover.

He wasn’t fond of winter because of his poor health and being prone to get sick every season, no matter how much time he actually spent outside. The older he got, the less fun it gave him, to go out and frisk with their dog. Everything got tiresome, in the end, making him even reluctant to go outside for more than a walk.

And yet, he could feel it, that nostalgic pang, whenever he thought of white hills in his hometown.

It stood in a drastic opposition to what he had in here, damp weather with no less than ten degrees Celsius. Something like this felt almost like a punch to his dignity, even though he hadn’t been home for almost fifteen years, winter in Berlin and then other places a poor imitation on what a proper winter should have felt like.

Hermann _despised_ winter in Hong Kong, everything being wet and slippery, making his leg ache more than usual, his coat somewhere in between being too warm and not waterproof enough. He knew he should had bought a new one but there was simply no time for it and so his parka had to do. Spacious pockets and soft lining only worked for its advantage, too.

And so he wandered off to the kitchen area, a whole day spent by computers and his ever present chalkboards. He could no longer say if it was horrendously late or ungodly early, time only a concept used to stabilize their lives — no matter the option he felt exhausted, a tiny bit of hungry and well too absorbed in his calculations to even consider going to bed yet.

The Shatterdome seemed forlorn, no one in sight as he snatched ingredients to make himself something to eat, hot coffee a final touch up to the meal. No one passed him nor was seen, even in a distance, those from late night shifts probably locked up in their stations or circuiting far away in the darkest recesses of the place.

Not that Hermann complained. He actually enjoyed his solitude in all of this, no one to disturb the comforting silence by the kitchen counter. The shared lab was never asleep, and so there never was truly quiet. They got used to it but when encountered with an actual stillness, they were able to tell them apart — or at least Hermann was.

He cleaned up the mess he had made, quickly and without a sound, as if afraid of waking some evil forces up with clattering dishes. Then he proceed back to the lab, tightening the grip on his parka. The temperature was moderate, though it felt much worse for him. Little sleep and a lack of nutrients, when combined with lots of activity, were, as Newton once put it, “ _the marathon for his metabolism and dude, do you know who likes running like hell for so long? Not your body for sure_ ” or something along the lines. Hermann knew staying up for long was making him feel cold and even more tired but work was awaiting him, basically _begging_ to be done. There always was something to do.

And so he sighed heavily, entering the shared laboratory and heading to the place he had been occupying for last ten hours at least.

Then, a silent noise that didn’t fit into machines’ lulling sound caught his attention. His eyes wandered around the cramped space, from his almost white blackboards to eerie glowing tanks with kaiju remains.

In a center of that disastrous side which did not belong to him stood a simple desk. And by this very desk Newton tended to seat, either typing reports or scrolling through the internet, music blasting from his laptop all day long.

But now it was silent. Well, almost.

“Newton?” He asked with hushed voice, approaching his sleeping colleague.

Steady breathing and a snore answered him, the other man’s face laying on the solid wood.

Well, that was rather rare, to see Newton just… fall asleep like that. To see him asleep at all, actually.

For as long as Hermann could remember, Geiszler was an epitome of restlessness. A walking volcano of pure energy. A positron not afraid to collide with its electron, always moving, always here and not here simultaneously.

Hermann shook his head, partially in amusement and somewhat in disbelief, too. The laptop had to freeze for quite some time if Newton just nodded off— either that or his own body got even on him for remaining highly active for three days straight.

Newton’s personal space, as far as Hermann could call it as such, was never ordered. It reminded him of a landfill of sorts, a chaotic mass of papers, plants and random objects — for example a dirty mug with, ironically, _science never sleeps_ printed on it.

A wave of realization washed over his mind, quick glance at the sleeping Newton giving him a tug somewhere in his chest. He sighed as he took his parka off, trying his best to cover his colleague with it.

Hermann could never articulate his appreciation so maybe, just maybe, this small gesture of his own would do.

As he made sure his coat would not fall off, he retreated to his devices, oncoming report for Marshall Pentecost baring its teeth in the luminous of his laptop screen.

 

The next day, or maybe rather the time he came back to the lab after getting a solid four hour long sleep, his parka was hung on the chair by his desk — and on a desktop, a steamy mug was waiting, too.

* * *

           

Hermann disliked violence, especially if he was the one to cause it. However, he was about to make an exception.

”Newton, for Christ’s sake, I’ll throw this bloody thing out of the lab if you don’t _turn the volume down,_ ” he said with a raised voice, his mouth twitched and eyebrows furrowed.

“Man, chill a bit, will you? Besides, it’s a classic!”

“It’s a _monstrosity._ ”

Newton groaned and dramatically reached to his laptop, making all the hideous noises stop. Then he gave Hermann _the look,_ the one which was an equivalent for “are you happy now, Herr I-only-listen-to-ancient-music-and-nothing-else Gottlieb?”.

“Yes, thank you.”

His colleague snorted at the answer to the unasked question, something similar to amusement on his features as he returned to dissecting tissues.

The comforting silence lasted for about five minutes.

“I don’t know why are you so much against my music taste, man,” Newton said without looking up from the kaiju guts. “I mean, sure, you may not like it, and I’m okay with that, and even more than okay, in fact, but in the end I’m the one who’s always getting _scolded_ for trying to lightening up the mood.”

Hermann sighed, putting his chalk aside and clasping his hands to get rid of white dust.

“I am not against it, Newton,” he started, grabbing his cane and taking a step forward. “I only want you to play it on your headphones or, at the very least, _not so loudly_.”

“I’d say that’s the fine example proving that what I’ve just said is true,” Newton noted, putting a slimy piece of some organ aside with a disgusting _splat._

Hermann sighed again, gripping his cane tighter. He could feel the upcoming headache.

“Have you ever considered, oh, I don’t know, actually listening to what I put on shuffle? My playlists are, actually, neat. Even if all you hear is loud noise.”

Newton wasn’t mocking him or trying to argue. He asked an earnest question and Hermann felt a bit surprised by that.

“I don’t think lyrics will ever make up to the pain the melody causes,” he answered truthfully, reaching to his temple. He could feel a gentle throbbing, a sign that he should get some pills if he wanted to remain productive today.

The other man tilted his head, looking at Hermann as if he were a puzzle to solve. Maybe in a sense he was. Just like all the other people, too.

In his case, with Newton Geiszler on top of the list.

“At least admit you like _that one_ song on my usual playlist,” he said eventually, startling Hermann.

“What song?”

“ _The_ song, dude, you know what I’m talking about!”

Hermann looked him dead in the eye, trying to guess whether the man was making fun of him right now or genuinely thought he knew the answer. Whichever it was, however…

“No, Newton, I certainly do not.”

His colleague slightly gaped, apparently _utterly_ shocked. Hermann didn’t know if he should feel amused or concerned. Probably a little bit of both.

“Now, if you excuse me, I have some Riemann integrals awaiting my immediate attention.” And with that he turned around, coming back to work which seemed to have no end.

 

Newton spent two whole days being suspiciously quiet. No music playing out loud, no snarky comments on whatever he was finding worth his attention, nothing. Hermann felt almost worried as it could basically be anything from an important and thereby threatening discovery to metaphorical, upcoming storm. Whichever it was, he was not glad about it.

He didn’t want to ask, though. It wasn’t wise to prod the vespiary and it was almost just as imprudent to interrupt Newton — especially if the man was onto something. And so did Hermann remain silent, curiously peeking from his boards to the side, trying to solve yet another puzzle, this one seemingly more difficult and complex than anything in his life before.

As he was about to go and make himself some coffee, Newton called after him:

“Hey man, you got a sec?”

 _No, Newton,_ he wanted to say. _I don’t really have time and probably neither do you. If my calculations are correct we should witness yet another attack in two days, I’m tired and, right now, in need of some caffeine,_ he wanted to add.

“Of course,” he replied. “What is it?”

Newton waved his hand, getting rid of his kaiju-blue stained gloves. Hermann followed him further into the other side of the lab, the part where his colleague stored… things up. He didn’t know how to better name all of those tanks with formaldehyde, lab glass, cartons and more.

Then Newton suddenly stopped, taking something from behind a pile of heavy looking containers.

“What are you-”

“At first, I thought you were joking,” Newton interrupted him, quickly tucking wires of the blue guitar into appropriate places. _Into the amplifier,_ Hermann realized belatedly as his colleague glanced up at him with a smile. “But then I’ve realized that you _did_ forget and let me tell you, I’m not going to stand by and let you live your life without making you remember first.”

Hermann wanted to say something but before he could, Newton started playing.

First notes sounded vaguely familiar but then, oh Lord, the other man started to _sing_ and that was the moment when he realized what song he was listening to.

 _“Science is real from the Big Bang to DNA,_ ” Newton singsonged, clearly amused. “ _Science is real from evolution to the Milky Way_.”

“Newton, please stop,” he steadied himself on his cane, being close to falling down. Partially from secondhand embarrassment and partially because, Lord have mercy, he _remembered._

The memory was now clear in his mind, vivid as ever. They had been writing each other for over a year now, the correspondence itself a mix of scientific inquiries, theories related to kaiju and personal information in between. The last of those tended to express itself through music recommendations, as Newton appeared as someone highly educated in variety of fields. One of those so called “song rec” had been a silly song that later on had stuck in his mind for about a month; he could not get rid of it.

Even though they hadn’t met then, he wanted to fly all his way to States to personally strangle Newton for sending him something like _that._

Time had passed, the song had been forgotten. Up until now, that is, as Newton took an effort to _sing it_ and make Hermann _remember it_ once again, dear God.

“ _Science is real from astrophysics to biology_ ,” he continued uninterrupted, visibly enjoying himself. “ _A scientific theory isn't just a hunch or guess._ ”

Hermann gave up, letting his hip rest on the amplifier, his eyes on his colleague.

 _“It's more like a question that's been put through a lot of tests,_ ” he chimed in, not really singing but intonating words instead. Letting the other man know that he, in fact, succeeded.

Newton looked at him in a mild disbelief and then grinned brightly, his smile reaching up to his eyes. Hermann hadn’t seen him this joyful in weeks.

“ _And when a theory emerges consistent with the facts, the proof is with science, the truth is with science!”_

He smiles against himself, accompanying in finishing the song, _science is real_ echoing for a brief moment in the lab.

Newton carefully takes off his guitar, looking at him with playful sparks in his eyes.

“I knew you would remember, man,” he said, proudly. As if it was his fault the song was silly enough to be catchy.

“I wish I did not,” Hermann admitted, truthfully. “I have gladly erased it from my brain but now it’s there _again,_ thanks to _you_.”

“You’re welcome, Herms,” Newton beamed, unplugging all wires and putting guitar in its place.

Hermann stifled the exasperated sigh that wanted to escape his mouth. He rolled his eyes without a word instead, letting the other man feel pleased of himself for once. He knew he was a killjoy, that he, in fact, tended to be the grumpy one. And as much as he hated to admit that, sometimes unjustly so.

“I must say, Newton,” he said after a moment, standing up. “That your version is better than the original.”

Newton theatrically clasped his hand on his shirt over the heart, mouth opening in shock.

“Hermann!” He exclaimed, again, ostentatiously. Exaggerating his disbelief as usual. “Did you just compliment me?”

“If you keep acting like this my answer is no.”

“Oh, c’mon!” He snorted. “It’s just, I don’t know, odd? You’re just not generous in applauding others, or at least not when it comes to me so I’m like? Positively amazed? I’m not gonna complain because it’s a nice alternative to our usual exchange so, um, thanks man. I appreciate that.”

Hermann smiled again, not really knowing if it was more for himself or his colleague.

They headed back to the center of the lab, the clock indicating the late hour but their bodies living beyond standard time for over too long to bother.

“Would you care for a coffee?” Hermann asked, reaching for his empty mug.

“I never say no to more caffeine, bud,” Newton replied, taking a place by his side on their way to the kitchen.

Science doesn’t stop for tea or coffee — but they were only mere people, trying their best to understand the vast majority of things going on around them. A little break wouldn’t hurt and, besides, nothing worked better for grey matter than an intelligent conversation over something warm to drink.

* * *

 

His discovery was both soothing and frightening, finally having a complete model of kaiju attacks that seemed to work. It spelled no good and telling that to Marshall wasn’t an easy task. The fact Newton was constantly interrupting him was not helpful one bit.

“Newton, don't embarrass yourself,” he said with irritation and agitation, not enough sleep and too much stress taking its toll.

Newton continued his blabbering anyway. Just as he always did. Hermann couldn’t tell if he was so much into explaining his ideas to Pentecost right now because he felt an inner obligation to beat Hermann — even though there was no game to play — or because he had an actual idea, more suited for their purpose.

However, as it turned out, it was neither. Not fully, at least.

“They’re clones,” he said completely serious.

“And this is the point where he goes completely crazy,” Hermann chimed in, not wanting Newton to continue. Now he knew where his colleague was going; he was considering a familiar sounding idea for the past week if not more, and even though Hermann had not hear the whole thing, he had heard enough.

Enough to know that what Newton wanted to propose was _insane._

“Now, I think I can tap into it using the same technology that allows the two Jaeger pilots to share a neural bridge,” he explained excitedly, tapping the tank with the somewhat alive remains of kaiju brain. “Now, think about that! I could tell you exactly how to get through the Breach yourselves.”

“You're suggesting that we initiate a drift with a kaiju?” Hercules asked with so much skepticism that Hermann’s mouth involuntarily twitched. He knew it would end up like this the second he’d heard Newton saying _drift_ and _kaiju_ in one sentence.

“No, no. No, no. Not like a whole kaiju, you know, just a tiny piece of its brain,” he tried to resolute, as if everyone else in the lab was wrong, as if his proposition seemed completely logical and not at all deranged.

“The neural surge would be too much for the human brain,” Herc responded, firmly.

“I agree,” Marshall added, nodding his head.

“I don’t agree,” Newton said, bewildered. As if his complaints were able to change Stacker’s mind now. _Anyone’s,_ for that matter.

In the end, just as one could have guessed, Hermann was asked to deliver his data to the Marshall’s desk. After that, he and Hercules left the laboratory, leaving the whole two-man K-science division to their devices.

“Newton, I know that you're desperate to be right,” Hermann added after some hopeful yelling his colleague had just made. He was mentally and physically exhausted, not to mention other, more infuriating fact.

That he was extremely worried.

“So you've not wasted your life being a kaiju groupie, but it's not going to work.”

He knew Newton. They had been working together for a decade, sharing a cramped space, a mere excuse of a lab after the budget cuts. Even though he still could not extinguish some things, even though he didn’t feel confident in some of his predictions, he _did_ know a few things for sure.

“It is going to work, Hermann,” Newton replied, not at all startled. A bit annoyed with everybody, yes, but oh so visibly _determined,_ those remarkable sparkles playing in his eyes. “And I'll tell you something else. Fortune favors the brave, dude.”

One of those things was that Newton Geiszler, of all of the people, was not a quitter. And that was the problem.

“You heard them,” he sighed, gripping his cane more tightly. “They won't give you the equipment and even if they did…” he stopped for a second, the very prospect of what he was about to say dreading. “...you'd kill yourself.”

And with that he turned to the exit, the room suddenly too small to breathe, too small to think. He had to complete some of his data, crucial files left on his pendrive back in the bedroom. That sounded like a good excuse to leave, a much better one than just feeling an utter squeeze of anxiety on his throat.

 

Later on he found Newton on the floor, PONS device on his head, his whole body shaking and blood dripping from his nose.

Sometimes, Hermann hated to be right.

* * *

 

“Hermann!” Newton yells, cross, visibly struggling not to stop what he was doing and just punch him. “I haven't exactly had a very good day, okay?”

 _There should be three kaiju,_ was all Hermann thought. Something was wrong. Really, really wrong. Math could not lie, it never did.

“I’ve got about 5 minutes,” he stopped, trying to pull the drill deeper into the dead kaiju. “Before brain death occurs here! I don't wanna spend it talking about your theories!”

“This is all wrong!” Hermann shouted back, Newton jumping off the body and coming to the console, ignoring him. “There should be three kaiju coming through, not two!”

Could not Newton see, or at the very least feel, that something was off here?

“There should be three and there's two? I'm sorry, it hurts to be wrong,” he said in that specific tone of his, not really mocking but not really serious, either.

The closest term would be, depending on a context, challenging or dismissive.

“I am not wrong,” he answered, quickly deciding that it was the former. “But there is something here we don't understand.”

Hermann really, _really_ wanted to make Newton understand why he was so worried and jittery now, why all of this was putting him off. Meanwhile, the only thing he achieved was to make his colleague turn from the console to look at him. He wore that _peeved_ expression he always had whenever they were arguing and the whole dispute went too far.

“Hopefully we can argue about any mistakes you made in your predictive model in the future!” He _screeched,_ gesticulating lively and without any proper coordination. “But in the meantime, the neural interface is way off the charts! If you want to help, help with that!”

That was no good. Newton was ready to drift with kaiju _again_ and he didn’t seem concerned at all. That he might lose himself in the alien consciousness, that he might damage his brain _even more,_ this time beyond any treatment.

That it was quite possible that even if he did manage to drift again, he wouldn’t be able to communicate essential information to anybody.

“Newton, I am not wrong,” he said, taking a deep breath. Trying not to think too much about what he had just decided to do. “There is only one way to make sure and that is to do this…” he put on his glasses and frantically typed a proper modifications into the programme, making slight adjustments. “...together.”

Newton visibly froze for a heartbeat, then slowly straightening, his silence and posture speaking volumes.

“I'll go with you,” Hermann confirmed, just to assure his colleague that yes, he indeed _did_ say that.

Newton looked at him as if he was the most bizarre and intriguing thing in the world. For the first time he felt at a complete loss for words, his previous nervousness now doubling.

“That's what the Jaeger pilots do,” he waved at the monitor, trying to hide his awkwardness. Probably unsuccessfully. “Share the neural load.”

“You're serious? You would do that for me?” Newton asked, suddenly grimacing for a second, as if catching himself saying something inappropriate. “Or, or you would do that _with_ me?”

Hermann, not really being sure why, smiled. Genuinely and widely, maybe with a bit of a Geiszler-like playfulness to it, too.

“Well, with worldwide destruction a certain alternative, do I really have a choice?”

* * *

 

As much as he was relieved, he didn’t feel like participating in celebrating. Not for now, at least. And surely not in such a form — J-Techs, regular stuff, pilots, all of them laughing and cheering with alcohol in hands.

His head was heavy and throbbing, his throat still sore from throwing up a few hours prior and, what was surely worse of all, he felt confused. Confusion was not a problem itself, he could deal with that, but the matter that caused it in the first place.

Not only his mind resembled a dumpster now, all foreign thoughts and desires mixed up with his own, but he also possessed knowledge that should had remained hidden from him. And no, he wasn’t speaking about that enormous amount of neuroscientific one.

“Ah, here you are!” Hermann turned around only to see Newton approaching him, a half-empty flask in one of his hands. “I’ve been looking for you, Herms!”

“You have?” He asked dubiously, shifting so that he could see the city again.

Hermann wasn’t sure why he chose this place, a somewhat secluded rooftop sounding just fine for whatever purposes he instinctively had thought of at the time.

He pretty much enjoyed his solitude up until now, something telling him he, paradoxically, craved company. A gut feeling of sorts, one could say.

“Couldn’t find you anywhere. Figured you’d go either here or to the lab.” Newton shrugged, coming closer and eventually standing next to Hermann, leaning on the railing. He smelled like blood and formaldehyde, with a tinge of tequila.

“Why have you been searching for me, though?” He asked, his eyes wandering over the Hong Kong, some lights still on and some already gone. Night was still in its full glory, though horizon started to lighten up, barely visible pink hues appearing in it. Announcing the brand new day.

His colleague hummed, swinging the bottle to take the gulp. Stalling the answer.

“I don’t know,” he replied, eyes focused on something far away.

Just twenty four hours before, Hermann would snort or comment on Newton’s response, calling him frivolous. Now, however, he refrained from that, letting silence settle down between them. In the past, it used to be uncomfortable but here, outside the Shatterdome, after stopping the apocalypse, it felt different. Less tense and more serene, bordering on enjoyable.

Newton was still Newton, though, and so he had no capacity to remain silent for too long.

“Have I ever told you about that dope dream I had?”

Hermann looked at him, raising an eyebrow, and then shook his head.

“Because, like, it was both so weird and awesome? Everything was the same as in real world except for the fact that _you_ were the one to dissect the kaiju and _I_ still had six doctorates but in physics, mathematics, cosmology and such,” he said with a half smile, still leaning on the railing.

“And then, I’ve told Stacker and Herc about my awesome discoveries and all, and then you interrupted me, saying you have an idea, though you thought it was dangerous and I somewhat knew you would not succeed? I mean,” he wetted his lips, gesticulating with his free hand. “In this dream _you_ were the one to propose drifting with a kaiju brain and everyone was startled? Because yeah, it _was_ risky as heck and even _I_ knew that?”

Hermann tried to stifle the laugh that threatened to escape his mouth, not really accomplishing the task. Newton smiled at that, pointing his bottle at him.

“See how it sounds? But, and that’s where it becomes _real weird,_ I couldn’t stop thinking about your idea, even though it was nowhere near my fields,” he dropped his gaze to the floor, only to lift it slightly a moment later. “The idea itself was just so, I don’t know man, extraordinary? That I had to do it.”

“So you’re saying that in your dream you drifted with a kaiju, even though it was not your idea nor your expertise?”

Newton shrugged with one arm, taking yet another sip from the bottle and nearly finishing it. By all means, it meant a solid _yes._

“I wouldn’t say it’s strange, Newton,” he said, gripping his cane only slightly tighter and averting his gaze from his colleague. “Though the fact you were interested in astrophysics is indeed peculiar.”

“Oh, shut up man,” he prodded him lightly, making Hermann smile against his will.

In all of his calculations and predictions, he would have never assumed they would end up in situation like this, not really hidden from people’s eyes but not in the crowd either, talking about reversed roles in one’s dream.

It was odd but also, in the way that Hermann could not yet fully comprehend, calming. Hitting strings that made him think of home.

“That dream inspired me to actually consider drifting with them, you know?” Newton admitted, finishing whatever alcohol he had left and putting the flask on the ground. “And now, when I think of it, it’s actually funny.”

“What is?”

“That in that dream, _I_ ’ve volunteered to help _you_ and that when I woke up I’ve thought “ _wow, that was awesome,_ ” but also “ _is drifting with kaiju physically possible?_ ” and then, I’ve also thought “ _if it were to happen now, in real life, would Hermann do the same for me?_ ” and, don’t get me wrong, I leaned more into the ‘no’ option.”

Hermann’s mouth quirked into bitter kind of smile, knowing perfectly well why Newton had assumed so. He really couldn’t blame him on that as for he was still surprised by his own actions back on the street in the heart of the Hong Kong.

Newton straightened his back, fixing his gaze on him, something warm and gentle playing behind a bit askew worn glasses.

“Now I have a solid proof that I was wrong, so… Sorry, dude. And thank you.” He smiled brightly at him and Hermann could swear that this smile was ten times lighter than stars in the night sky above.

A familiar feeling in his guts returned, making his thoughts simultaneously rapid and slow, quickly running through his head but still seeming terribly sluggish and delayed.

He didn’t know if he found it pleasant or not but he did realize that, God have mercy on him, Newton Geiszler was the only person that made him feel this particular way. It was incensing and, maybe, a little tiny bit stirring. In a way.

“I’ve told you, Newton — there was no other choice,” he decided to say, purposefully avoiding his colleague’s gaze. “No need to thank me.”

“Yeah, sure thing,” even though Hermann didn’t see it, he _knew_ Newton just gave him that infuriating smile, the very one that started many of their arguments back in the shared space of the small lab.

Neither of them felt inclined to carry on the conversation and so they remained silent, enjoying the company of one another.

Sometimes, Hermann thought, it was more than enough. To just be around somebody known, someone who you were familiar with. He could not recall how many times they hadn’t exchange a single word during the day, being busy with trying to stop the kaiju from showing up again.  Arguments and shouting were much more common between them, no doubt, but he truly cherished those quiet moments and not only because it was easier to work.

Newton Geiszler had been the singularity in Hermann’s life since the very first letter and successfully remained such. As much as he disliked elements like this in his life, they ruining the peaceful harmony he had carefully built over the years, he was ready to make an exception.

Even black holes were shining, though no one could really witness it, and his colleague appeared pretty much the same.

“What are you gonna do now?” Newton asked with hushed voice, as if he suddenly felt shy about something.

 _Insecurity doesn’t suit you,_ Hermann thought.

 _I’m not really sure, Newton,_ he wanted to say.

“As far as I’m concerned, I’ll make sure you don’t clone a kaiju, Newton,” he answered instead, glancing to the side, his colleague making a funny face at him.

“What?” Newton almost screeched, looking at him as if he lost his mind. “Where did you-”

“Newton,” his voice firm and deadpan, eyes fixed at the other man. “We’ve shared a neural load. I was, quite literally, in your head. I _know_ you gave this idea a thought.”

At first, his colleague seemed baffled, then startled and in the end he hung his head, sighing in defeat. All of it in the span of three seconds.

“Wouldn’t that be cool, though?” Newton asked, with a hopeful tone, as if trying to soothe the scold that he was being given.

“No,” Hermann responded shortly, extinguishing that tiny light of naive faith. “It certainly would not, Newton.”

“You’re no fun, man,” he scoffed, crossing his arms and putting on the offended posture.

Hermann sighed, being somewhere in between amusement and exasperation. Some things would never change, it seemed.

“The remains of your common sense has been fried during the first drift with a kaiju, I assume, and so there ought to be somebody who takes its place,” he explained, tapping with his cane for the better impact of his words.

Newton snorted, his half smile betraying the confusion with a tinge of something else behind the surface.

“You volunteer?”

Hermann tilted his head, weighting possible answers he could give him. On the one hand, there was absolutely nothing that tied him up to the other man, that is, to the point that he should feel responsible for him. On the other, though…

Letting Newton go felt like a bad decision to make. For various reasons, some known and some still hidden from his eyes.

“I have so much experience with putting up with your nonsense that I think no one else really qualifies.”

Newton barked with sincere, obnoxious laughter and it was probably the most buoyant thing Hermann had heard in years.

**Author's Note:**

> Pardon me and this self-indulgent fic. I just like those tiny gestures/domesticity tropes way too much for my own good (as well as Sleeping at Last because I guess you can tell by the title of the fic).
> 
> For the record, I'm pretty sure Newt _would_ send Hermann music recommendations, sometimes annoying ones, too. In this fic, he's singing Science is Real by They Might Be Giants! Yes, it's silly. Yes, it's cute.
> 
> Also Newton's dream is a flashback of sorts to the previous fic in the series! Because, as it was put in my main inspiration for it, _"(...)I’m not dreaming the way a normal person would. Instead I’m seeing flashes of our lives in the multiverse. They’re not simple dreams because I miss you, right? They’re scientific, anachronistic visions."_.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!  
> You can also find me on [tumblr](http://ee-void.tumblr.com/)!


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